My Little Brother Is Here for the Weekend
There should always be something good on the counter.
My little brother lives alone, so when he and his girlfriend come to stay for the weekend from Brooklyn, I feed them.
Not in an I’ve planned nine meals and laminated an itinerary kind of way. More in an there should always be something good on the counter kind of way.
I want one proper dinner at home. Something for breakfast that doesn’t require me to actually make breakfast in the morning. Something snacky while we watch football. And at some point, I would very much like someone else to cook for all of us.
That feels like the right amount of hosting for a weekend.
Friday Night: Greek Night
Friday is the one real dinner I’m cooking.
Greek food is particularly good for this because I can put a bunch of things on the table and call it dinner. There will be grilled her and lemon chicken thighs, a simple orzo salad with feta and dill, tzatziki, plenty of pita and hummus from Goldie, and enough olives and peppadew peppers that everyone can start eating before I’ve technically announced that dinner is ready.
Which is generally how I prefer things anyway.
For dessert, I’m picking up baklava from Majdal Bakery.
Could I make baklava? Probably.
I’ve never tried.
Am I making baklava after making an entire Greek dinner?
Absolutely not.
Someone else has already done a very good job of this. I see no reason to interfere.
Saturday Morning: Put Something on the Counter
I still have apples.
So many apples.
The Apple Party is over. Finally, the apples are too.
I’m using the last of them to make apple bread, which is exactly the kind of houseguest breakfast I like: make it ahead, put it on the counter, make coffee, and everyone can help themselves whenever they wake up.
I’m using a Sally’s Baking Addiction recipe, with Greek yogurt standing in for the applesauce I do not have.
Apple bread. Berries. Coffee.
This is breakfast. I will not be taking orders.
Saturday Afternoon: Football Food
By lunchtime, I don’t really want lunch.
I want buffalo chicken meatballs.
These are mine, and they’re exactly the kind of thing I want sitting around while football is on: chicken meatballs with finely chopped carrot, celery and onion right in the mixture, tossed in buffalo sauce and served with an extremely uncomplicated ranch.
Add chips. Add vegetables. Put out whatever else happens to be around.
People eat when they’re hungry.
This is one of my favorite kinds of meals because nobody ever announces that it’s a meal.
Saturday Night: Someone Else Is Cooking
We’re going to Pizzeria Beddia.
Because I love having people stay at my house. I love feeding them. I love waking up knowing there’s something good sitting on the counter and putting out food in the afternoon that everyone slowly destroys while watching football.
I also live in Philadelphia.
I am not cooking Saturday-night dinner when very good pizza exists outside my house.
And Sunday lunch? Handled.
And I think that’s my preferred way to have people stay for the weekend.
Make something. Buy something good. Go somewhere you love.
There should always be something to eat.
There does not always need to be something to cook.
Especially when it’s your little brother.
He doesn’t need a dinner party.
He just needs to know there’s something good on the counter.
